Hi Guys. Just as a note, I am a US citizen.
Topic
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Essay
When I was little, I saw myself as a snail riding a leaf which drifted in water. The world was a massive place, and I would sail along not knowing where I was, not knowing what I was supposed to do, but being happy nonetheless. I left my egg while drifting on the River Thames, where reflections of skyscrapers stretched across the waters face, stole space from the sky and the scent of southern London told stories of pubs and poverty. Before I found my shell, it was my parents who sheltered me. They turned the chaos to stone and relieved me of my fears. They guided me safely down the Thames for years, until I came to the mouth of the river and was spat out onto the open ocean. I was awhile adrift on the sea, lost but purposeful with the wind at my naked back. I was guided to Senegal, where a scorching eye stared down at me from the sapphire sky. Dead fish festered, fumigating the unending markets that sprawled along the beaches. I discovered a vivacious new world of people, music and food; and opened myself up to it. However, despite my enthrallment, my leaf was steered back to the open water. I was between homes. But this time when I felt the wind on my naked back, it was cold. It was as if the warmth of my parents had left me. They had gotten divorced. I had no shelter, and so I began to carefully craft my own shell. Into it I worked my many passions, everything from the infallible reality of logic and the escape of fantasy novels, to the memories of my journey, had its place. With aimless precision I had been lead to Kenya; where green fields stretched and stretched and didn't stop stretching, and overcast skies boomed in a circus of light and sound. But all was contaminated by the bitter taste of abandonment and the looming presence of fear. However, no matter how bad it might have felt, the shell I had built for myself provided solace.The next time I was steered out to sea, I was prepared. I said goodbye to Kenya, the host of my shell's creation, and found myself in the bristling big city: Johannesburg, South Africa. It was a place of anonymity ; a place where buying bread did not come with the biography of a shopkeeper. It was perfect. I could tinker and tweak my shell in peace, adding new things and enhancing older ones. From the security of my new shell, I looked back at my life, in England, in Senegal and in Kenya, and learned to appreciate it. I was my own snail then, as I am my own man now. I no longer miss the shelter that my parents provided. The put into my shell have rewarded me with a shield. A shield that gives me the safety to grow and experiment.
Topic
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Essay
When I was little, I saw myself as a snail riding a leaf which drifted in water. The world was a massive place, and I would sail along not knowing where I was, not knowing what I was supposed to do, but being happy nonetheless. I left my egg while drifting on the River Thames, where reflections of skyscrapers stretched across the waters face, stole space from the sky and the scent of southern London told stories of pubs and poverty. Before I found my shell, it was my parents who sheltered me. They turned the chaos to stone and relieved me of my fears. They guided me safely down the Thames for years, until I came to the mouth of the river and was spat out onto the open ocean. I was awhile adrift on the sea, lost but purposeful with the wind at my naked back. I was guided to Senegal, where a scorching eye stared down at me from the sapphire sky. Dead fish festered, fumigating the unending markets that sprawled along the beaches. I discovered a vivacious new world of people, music and food; and opened myself up to it. However, despite my enthrallment, my leaf was steered back to the open water. I was between homes. But this time when I felt the wind on my naked back, it was cold. It was as if the warmth of my parents had left me. They had gotten divorced. I had no shelter, and so I began to carefully craft my own shell. Into it I worked my many passions, everything from the infallible reality of logic and the escape of fantasy novels, to the memories of my journey, had its place. With aimless precision I had been lead to Kenya; where green fields stretched and stretched and didn't stop stretching, and overcast skies boomed in a circus of light and sound. But all was contaminated by the bitter taste of abandonment and the looming presence of fear. However, no matter how bad it might have felt, the shell I had built for myself provided solace.The next time I was steered out to sea, I was prepared. I said goodbye to Kenya, the host of my shell's creation, and found myself in the bristling big city: Johannesburg, South Africa. It was a place of anonymity ; a place where buying bread did not come with the biography of a shopkeeper. It was perfect. I could tinker and tweak my shell in peace, adding new things and enhancing older ones. From the security of my new shell, I looked back at my life, in England, in Senegal and in Kenya, and learned to appreciate it. I was my own snail then, as I am my own man now. I no longer miss the shelter that my parents provided. The put into my shell have rewarded me with a shield. A shield that gives me the safety to grow and experiment.
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